A Special Message to All My Incredible Readers đź’›
Today marks a huge milestone — Chapter 365 of this One Piece fanfiction. That's one whole year worth of chapters, day after day. Whether you've been here since the beginning or just hopped aboard the adventure recently, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Your comments, reactions, criticisms, and kind words have kept this story alive and thriving. You've helped make this journey unforgettable, and I couldn't have done it without your love and support.
As we celebrate this chapter-versary, I have a small request:If this fanfic has made you laugh, comment, or excitedly yell, "That's so One Piece!", please leave a review. Tell me (and others!) what this story has meant to you — it would mean the world to me and help even more fans discover our little corner of the Grand Line.
Also, if you've enjoyed this ride and want to support me beyond fanfiction, I'm humbly inviting you to check out my Patreon. Your support there will help me focus on my original novel, a story I'm incredibly excited to share with the world — one that I hope you'll love just as much as this one.
From the bottom of my heart — thank you. Here's to more adventures, more plot twists, and many more chapters to come.
Stay awesome,— [Silent_stiele] ✨
[Patreon : www.patreon.com/Silent_stiele]
*****
Totto Land, New World
"Ikkoku Sovereignty…!!" Linlin roared, her voice shaking the heavens as she swung her halberd with all her might. Her form was a terrifying spectacle, bathed in molten lava and crackling with pink lightning.
Waves of advanced armament Haki laced with her Conqueror's Haki radiated from her body, rippling through the very fabric of the air. The force of her unleashed power was so immense that the island itself groaned, trembled, and fractured as reality seemed to bend under the weight of her attack.
The colossal beam of energy erupted from her halberd like a tidal wave of destruction, hurtling toward me with the power to obliterate nations.
This was no longer a fight for dominance or pride. Linlin's face no longer bore the grin of arrogance or disdain; instead, there was grim determination, the primal instinct of survival. She had finally realized that this was a fight where the stakes were life itself.
I stood firm, unyielding, the sharp air of devastation tearing at my already battered form. My bare upper body was marred with cuts and gashes from the relentless battle, blood streaking down my torso in rivulets.
Yet I felt no weakness—only the searing burn of my spirit roaring to meet the challenge. My muscles rippled as I tightened my grip on Shusui and Akatsuki, their edges gleaming with the lethal glow of imbued Haki.
The battlefield became a chaotic maelstrom of power as I answered her with my own. Black and golden lightning surged and twisted around me, a storm of energy that devoured the air, forcing back Linlin's soul energy like the tide meeting an immovable wall. My Conqueror's Haki erupted in a cataclysmic wave, carving out its own domain as it clashed violently with hers.
"Niten Ichi-ryū: Death Reaper's Scythe!" I bellowed, charging forward like a harbinger of destruction. My every step shattered the ground beneath me, the pressure of my Haki forming a blackened crater in my wake. The twin blades in my hands hummed with power, glowing with an otherworldly sheen as they drank deeply of my will.
Linlin's destructive beam roared toward me, tearing through the island, obliterating mountains, forests, and the sea alike. The sheer heat and force threatened to engulf me, but I remained unflinching.
With every ounce of strength and skill I had honed over a lifetime, I swung both blades, unleashing a devastating X-shaped slash of black and gold energy. The sheer velocity of the attack tore apart the earth as it surged forward, a wave of destruction that split the heavens themselves.
The two titanic attacks met midair, their collision birthing a cataclysm that seemed to rip the world apart. A deafening shockwave exploded outward, uprooting the remaining trees and shattering the cliffs along the coastline.
The sky itself seemed to crack as the force of the clash sent storm clouds spiraling out in every direction. The blackened sea roared, its waves towering like mountains, only to be vaporized by the heat and energy pouring from the battlefield.
For a moment, the two attacks struggled for dominance, each vying to consume the other. Linlin's attack burned with her raw fury and desperation, while mine surged with unrelenting precision and the will to conquer. The air screamed under the strain as the battlefield was torn asunder by the sheer magnitude of power.
With a powerful surge of spirit, I poured every ounce of Haki and resolve into my blades.
"Haaaaah!" I roared, my voice booming like thunder as the black and gold slash erupted forward, cutting through Linlin's beam with unstoppable ferocity. Her energy shattered like glass, fragments scattering in all directions as my attack tore through the remnants of her assault and surged toward her.
Linlin's eyes widened in shock as the scythe-like slash bore down on her. She brought her halberd up in defense, reinforcing it with every shred of Haki she could muster. But the force of the attack was unstoppable. The ground beneath her splintered as she was driven back, her massive frame trembling under the sheer weight of the blow.
The world seemed to hold its breath as the energy detonated on impact, consuming the battlefield in a blinding explosion of black and gold light. The island quaked violently, pieces of it crumbling into the sea as the sheer force of the clash rippled outward, shaking the very foundations of Totto Land.
When the light finally faded, the battlefield was left in ruins. Massive trenches carved through the earth stretched to the horizon, the once-pristine island now a desolate wasteland. The air was heavy with smoke and the lingering hum of unleashed power.
Linlin stood at the far end, her halberd lowered, her chest heaving. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she glared at me with a mixture of rage and newfound fear. I remained steady, blades at the ready, my own breath ragged but my spirit unbroken.
Linlin glanced down at her chest, her breath ragged, her legendary physique no longer the impenetrable fortress it had once been. For the first time in decades, her seemingly indestructible body bore wounds that refused to mend—two deep, jagged cross-shaped slashes that carved into her very bones.
Blood seeped from the gashes, a stark crimson against her molten, lightning-clad frame. The pain was excruciating, and yet, she stood firm, her monstrous resilience defying the limits of even the strongest giants.
But something was different this time. No matter how much willpower she poured into her self-healing, her body refused to respond. Her regenerative ability, one of her greatest strengths, faltered. She gritted her teeth as the realization dawned on her: the attacks weren't ordinary—they carried something more insidious.
The slash running diagonally from her left shoulder to her right hip radiated a foreign, oppressive energy that seemed to devour her vitality, burrowing into her very essence. Her Haki tried desperately to purge it, but the malicious force resisted, clinging to her like a predator savoring its prey.
Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time in this battle, doubt flickered in her gaze. That blade, the cursed sword her opponent wielded, was no ordinary weapon. She had faced cursed blades before, fought and even bested foes wielding them. But this one… this was different.
Linlin's thoughts flashed to the past. Even Xebec's infamous cursed saber, a weapon that once bathed entire battlefields in blood, paled in comparison to the malice emanating from the blackened katana in Rosinante's hand.
It wasn't just the blade—it was the man wielding it. His precision, his mastery of Haki, and the sheer dominance of his presence reminded her of the monsters she once fought alongside decades ago.
Her unease deepened. How had this brat, barely in his twenties, risen to a level that could rival her own? His power, his technique—it wasn't just raw talent; it was something more refined, something honed in ways that defied logic.
A warrior of this caliber shouldn't exist at such a young age. And yet, here he was, standing before her, his form exuding an unshakable confidence that ignited a long-buried fear.
Linlin's pride screamed at her to deny it, to reject the idea that this boy could threaten her. She was an Emperor of the Seas! Her arrogance demanded she press on, demanded she crush him under her might. But her ego had already cost her dearly.
"Hera!" Linlin bellowed, her voice a thunderclap that shook the heavens. She reached out instinctively, summoning her trusted lightning Homie. But there was no response.
A flicker of alarm crossed her face, quickly replaced by realization. Her instincts screamed, her gut twisting with the brutal truth—Hera was gone.
At some point during the ferocious battle, the cursed blade had devoured her Homie, consuming Hera's essence like a beast that hungered endlessly. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a living, predatory force. For the first time in decades, Linlin felt truly at a disadvantage.
Her heart pounded as a dark thought crept into her mind: retreat. Her body screamed for it. Her instincts, which had saved her life countless times, urged her to step back, to regroup, to escape this nightmare. But the pirate in her—the cunning, ruthless intelligence that had driven her rise to power—refused. No. She would not retreat. Not now.
Her hands trembled briefly as she steadied her halberd, the molten weapon still radiating heat as the earth quaked beneath her. Her ego forced her to push past the fear. This was no longer a battle of dominance—it was a clash of survival. Rosinante had to die.
Her bloodied lips twisted into a feral snarl, her voice breaking the silence. "You dare stand before me, brat? You think you're stronger than me? I AM BIG MOM!"
But her declaration, once powerful enough to shatter the resolve of entire armies, now rang hollow against the overwhelming tide of my presence. The sudden surge of her Conqueror's Haki barely registered, utterly smothered by the sheer dominance of my own, which now reigned supreme over the battlefield. To me, it wasn't a challenge—it was a desperate roar, a futile cry against the unrelenting storm that was me, Rosinante.
Across the battlefield, I stood, my golden eyes locked onto hers, my twin blades humming with a terrifying power.
The air around me seemed alive with black and golden lightning, my Conqueror's Haki pressing down on hers like the will of the very world.
Linlin's mind raced. The boy had come for her head. And for the first time in her life, she wasn't certain she could stop him.
****
"Smoothie... make sure you evacuate with the rest of the siblings. Get as far from here as you can," Katakuri finally spoke, his deep voice breaking the tense silence. The assembled cadre of the Big Mom Pirates stood at the edge of an island far from the battlefield, their expressions grim.
The heart of Totto Land—the very core of their empire—had turned into a zone of absolute devastation.
For over a day now, Mama and Rosinante had been locked in a cataclysmic clash. The skies over Whole Cake Island churned with storms of fire and black lightning, and the earth groaned beneath their unrelenting attacks.
Even here, dozens of nautical miles away, the tremors from their fight were palpable, like an unending drumbeat of destruction.
The oppressive aura of Rosinante's Conqueror's Haki hung like a guillotine over Totto Land, sharp and suffocating, forcing Katakuri to shield his siblings from its sheer intensity. Without his protection, most of them wouldn't even have been able to stand, let alone discuss strategy.
A heavy unease lingered in Katakuri's chest, one that he couldn't shake. "How could this happen?" he thought. Mama was a Yonko, a figure who inspired terror across the seas, yet here they were—watching from the sidelines, unable to intervene, with no certainty of her victory.
"Maybe we should capture the two who came with Rosinante," Amande suggested, her voice cutting through the silence. "If we hold them hostage, perhaps we can force his hand."
Her words carried weight, and many of the siblings exchanged wary glances. Even from this distance, the battle unfolding on Whole Cake Island was apocalyptic.
The island was unrecognizable, a hellscape of darkness, lightning, and flame. The sight of it was enough to shake their confidence, and Amande's suggestion hung in the air like a lifeline—or perhaps a noose.
But Katakuri shook his head, his jaw tightening. He didn't need to see the future to know that this idea was nothing short of suicidal. His mind flashed back to Rosinante's warning before the battle began.
"If your siblings so much as touch those kids, Katakuri, you know what'll happen. Don't make me show you."
The memory sent a chill through him. Amande opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, Katakuri's voice came low and firm, like the rumble of an approaching storm. "No."
The weight in his tone silenced everyone. Amande hesitated, unsure whether his refusal came from strategy or fear. But when she locked eyes with him, the determination she saw left no room for argument. Katakuri's Conqueror's Haki flared slightly, a reminder of the authority he wielded within the crew. But a few of the siblings still insisted because it seemed like a sound plan.
"I said NO…!" Katakuri roared, his haki surging, forcing everyone to step back. His gaze sharpened as he looked at Amande.
"Don't you get it? He left them behind as bait. You think he'd let them stay here, unguarded, if they were vulnerable? That kid..." His voice trailed off as he recalled the boy's calm, unwavering expression, even when surrounded by the entirety of Big Mom's forces.
"That kid's confidence wasn't arrogance or the presence of Rosinante; it's his confidence in his own strength. He's a trap—a trap waiting for fools like us to step into. And Rosinante? He's still keeping track of them, even from this distance."
The siblings fell silent. Katakuri's words carried the weight of undeniable truth.
After a moment, Katakuri pulled a small piece of parchment from his pocket—his Vivre Card. With a resolute expression, he tore it into four pieces, passing the fragments to Perospero, Smoothie, and Cracker. The largest piece remained with him.
"Take these and leave. Now." His voice was commanding, and his haki made it clear there would be no room for debate, his gaze drawing everyone's attention to Perespero. "If I fall, you'll know whom to follow. But under no circumstances will any of you go after those two. Is that understood?"
Perospero looked ready to protest, but the words died on his lips as Katakuri's gaze hardened. His haki surged, sending an unspoken message that even the most stubborn among them couldn't ignore.
"Understood," Smoothie finally said, her voice barely audible over the roar of the distant battle.
Satisfied, Katakuri turned away. With one last look at his siblings, he launched himself toward the epicenter of destruction. The air around him crackled with tension as his haki surged, propelling him forward like a missile.
"Mama needs me," he thought, his resolve solidifying. As he hurtled toward the battlefield, the oppressive storm of darkness and fire ahead seemed almost alive, a manifestation of Rosinante's will. But Katakuri was undeterred. He had made his decision, and there was no turning back now.
The final thing he left behind was a single, thunderous command: "Go."
And then he disappeared into the cataclysm, a lone figure diving headfirst into the chaos to face whatever awaited him.
****
The entourage of giants stood silently, an imposing formation of warriors towering over the landscape. At their head was Loki, the Prince of Elbaf, his immense frame radiating strength and authority.
Yet beneath his stoic exterior, unease churned in his chest like a storm threatening to break free. For the past day, he had been observing the battle from a distant island, watching the clash between Rosinante and Big Mom. What he witnessed was not just a battle—it was a calamity, a collision of monstrous wills and power that defied his deepest comprehension.
Loki's sharp eyes narrowed as another devastating shockwave rippled through the sea, creating massive waves that slammed into the distant shoreline.
The air itself seemed to crackle under the residual pressure of their Conqueror's Haki, suffocating and oppressive even from here. His hands clenched into fists. He hated the feeling creeping into his bones—a raw, primal sensation he hadn't felt since standing before that man beneath the World Tree.
"Is this what it means to stand at the pinnacle of the world?" Loki muttered under his breath. His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of his doubt. The memory of that man at the base of the World Tree flashed through his mind—a warrior so mighty that Loki, for all his pride, had felt like an ant in his presence.
And now, here he was, witnessing that same overwhelming power once again in the form of Rosinante. The thought gnawed at him.
Could he ever hope to stand against monsters like this?
One of his advisors stepped forward, breaking his train of thought. "My prince, it seems one of the titans of the sea is destined to fall here," the giant said cautiously, his words mirroring Loki's earlier suspicion.
Loki nodded but remained silent. He did not trust himself to speak, lest his voice betray the turmoil brewing within. For all his bravado, for all his strength, the last day had laid bare an uncomfortable truth: the world was far more dangerous than even he had imagined.
He had grown up with tales of the overlords of the sea, the great pirates who ruled the seas with iron fists and unconquerable wills. But witnessing their power firsthand—feeling the tremors of their battle—was something else entirely. These were no ordinary warriors. These were monsters, titans who had surpassed the limits of mortals.
He thought back to the legends of Elbaf's Treasure, the mythical power said to reside deep within his homeland. His mind clung to the notion like a lifeline. "It must be the devil fruits," he rationalized, trying to suppress his unease. "That's the key. That's why they are so strong."
The idea grew roots in his mind. If Loki truly wanted to embody the spirit of Elbaf, if he wished to stand at the top of the world and challenge these monsters, he would need that treasure. The obsession with it began to burn hotter and fiercer, consuming his doubts with ambition.
But just as his resolve solidified, another advisor interrupted. "My prince, should we move to retrieve Princess Dora? She's on the neighboring island, observing the battle with only the child as her companion. Now might be the best time to bring her back to Elbaf."
Loki stiffened at the mention of his sister. His expression hardened, though not out of anger. He cast a long, thoughtful look toward the battlefield, where chaos reigned supreme. The idea of taking Dora back had merit, but something deeper stopped him.
Even from this distance, Loki could feel it—a shadow hanging over the battlefield like death itself, radiating from Rosinante. His instincts screamed a warning: "Do not interfere."
He shook his head, his voice firm. "No... Leave her be."
The advisor blinked in surprise. "But my prince, she is—"
"I said no." Loki's tone left no room for argument, his Conqueror's Haki flaring subtly, enough to silence any further objections. He took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing.
"She has chosen her path. She lost her pride as a giant the moment she took up the mantle of a pirate. Let her live with that choice."
But even as he spoke the words, they rang hollow in his heart. Loki's dismissal of Dora wasn't entirely rooted in pride or anger. It was something far more personal—something he didn't dare admit to the others.
Deep down, he couldn't bear the thought of Dora being caught up in the power struggle brewing in Elbaf. He couldn't risk her being harmed, especially not now, when he himself was feeling powerless in the face of such overwhelming forces.
"No... It's better this way," he thought. "Better she stays far away from Elbaf and the storm that's coming."
Loki turned his gaze back to the battlefield, the flames of destruction reflecting in his sharp eyes. He resolved himself in that moment. He couldn't afford to feel powerless again—not now, not ever.
If he wanted to face monsters like these, if he wanted to truly embody the spirit of Elbaf, he needed to become more. The treasure of Elbaf, the key to surpassing the limits of his strength, would be his.
As the next shockwave rumbled across the sea, Loki's expression hardened, his jaw set with determination. The path ahead would be grueling, but he would walk it without hesitation.
Because no matter what, Loki of Elbaf would not be left behind in a world of monsters.